Madge and Gale
by All-lost-things
Summary: First Chapter of a story i hope to continue. Madge's POV while Katniss is in the first arena.


Katniss has been in the area for three days now. She's still alive. It looked pretty touch and go there for a while, with the water and everything. She made it though, of course she did. Thank goodness.

I spend as much time as possible watching her, as much time as I can bear. He doesn't though. Gale. Well, if he does, then I guess he can bear it a lot less than me. He only watches when something is happening to her. Everyone's realised this by now, so every time the cameras are on Katniss you hear half the village shout his name.

I tear myself away from the screen, where the Careers are piling up the food and supplies in a giant pyramid while the little boy from 3 fiddles with the landmines. You can see the sweat beading on his forehead even from here.

I know where Gale will be. Ever since the reaping, he's spent hours just sat on the grassy hill that leads down to the woods, even after he's finished hunting. I slip out of my house and walk down the stony path that leads to the fence. I know the electricity won't be turned on. It never is.

I catch a glimpse of him, silhouetted against a sun that hangs low in the sky. My stomach twists weirdly, as though it tried to backflip but something grabbed it and pulled it down before it's finished. My steps falter slightly, and then stop. What if he doesn't want me there?

But then he turns his head and looks directly at me, only I can't quite see his facial expression because the sun is too bright in my eyes. There's no way I can just turn around and leave now, is there?

I pull myself together and carry on walking, duck under the wire and up to where he is sat. The setting sun isn't spreading the same warmth as it has throughout the rest of the day so I pull my thin coat tightly around me and fold my arms, stopping awkwardly for a moment when I finally reach him.

He looks up at me, and just when my brain has gone into complete melt down and I'm screaming at myself for doing this, embarrassing myself this way when he clearly doesn't want me here, something that faintly resembles a smile flits across his lips.

I take this as a sign that it's ok for me to sit down, so I sit cross legged in the grass next to him.

"Hi".

Even though I've heard it a hundred times before, his low, clear voice still shocks me. I wait an embarrassingly long moment, attempting vaguely and with no real luck to collect my thoughts before replying.

"Hey. I hope - I hope this is ok. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, you probably just want to be alone-"

He smiles properly this time, and something about it makes my insides fill up and spread warmth through my entire body so that my threadbare old coat suddenly feels unnecessary.

"It's fine, honestly. I like the company, actually."

Then he looks away from me and back at the ground and I get the impression that he's embarrassed about letting that slip. I can't even imagine what he's been through in the last week, with Katniss getting reaped and Peeta Mellark announcing that he's in love with her and then watching her almost die from dehydration. They were always together, Katniss and him, always hunting in the woods or sneaking into the hob. No wonder he feels alone.

I watch his face carefully as he looks up and into the woods. I get that strange feeling, you know the one where you're looking at something you know so well but suddenly it feels brand new? I feel like I'm looking at him properly for the first time since we were children. His face is well-structured, strong jawline and a straight nose, and I can see the muscles clenching near his mouth every so often. His skin is smooth and slightly tan from all the time he spends outdoors, punctuated by his eyes which I swear are a slightly different shade of grey than everyone else's, deeper and richer, and the lashes framing them surprise me because they're so thick and black. His eyebrows are large and darker than the hair that curls softly around the edges of his face, which is a kind of warm brown that reminds me of the time my father brought home chocolate and coffee. His lips are slightly pinker than his skin, and surprisingly full. They shock me for a moment because I don't think I've ever really noticed them before, and for a second or two I really can't look away.

He looks back at me and suddenly lines are furrowing the smooth canvas of his face and he says in a voice I've never heard before, that I almost can't believe is coming from Gale Hawthorne, the tall, strong boy who walks around school apparently not noticing that half the girls there swoon every time he opens his mouth or bats his surprisingly thick eyelashes over his dark eyes—

"I'm just - it's just – I can't stand watching her, you know?"

Sometimes I think I should dislike Katniss because she's silent and sullen and everyone thinks she's unfriendly, because she hunts illegally in the woods and I'm the mayor's daughter, because she ignores everyone and cares about no one but her little sister, and most especially because I'm so sure he's in love with her, this boy who sits on the grassy slope instead of watching her on the screen because he can't bear to watch her get hurt, the boy who brings my father strawberries and who I swear glances my way in the corridor at school, who makes my head spin and my cheeks blush and my stomach twist itself into knots whenever I hear his voice or watch him laugh—

But I can't hate her. In fact, she's probably my best friend. Which should make it worse, really, but it doesn't. Because she's so brave and so honest, and if she dies in the Hunger Games I'm not sure I will be able to bear it.


End file.
